


Hindsight

by PastelBun



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Again, Dean made a mistake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 21:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6771265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelBun/pseuds/PastelBun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Look, I can explain.” Dean’s mouth twitches into an uneasy smile as he tilts his head downwards and raises his eyebrows a bit. “There’s a very good reason for all of this.”<br/>“Really Dean? There is?” Sam leans back in the motel chair and folds his arms.<br/>“You see there was this chick.”<br/>Sam inwardly and outwardly groans. Of course there was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hindsight

Yeah, so maybe this hadn’t been brightest of things Dean’s done. And maybe this thing belonged on the top ten _worst_ pick ups Dean Winchester ever had. Sure. Yeah. (Okay maybe not the top ten. Dean's sure he's had worse, he's just blocked most of them from his memory. Or at least tried his damnedest to). Dean can live with that. But hey, at least he’s made it back in one piece. That’s a good thing, right?

Sam frowns at his brother from across the cheap imitation wood table, mouth tight, lips cinched together, and pronounced brow furrowed. Dean’s eyes dance every which way but Sam’s gaze as the older brother licks his lips nervously. Sam makes a prolonged huffing noise rolling his head along with his eyes as his shoulders rise and fall. Sam's thankful for the table between them.

“Dean.”

“Look, I can explain.” Dean’s mouth twitches into an uneasy smile as he tilts his head downwards and raises his eyebrows a bit. “There’s a very good reason for all of this.”

“Really Dean? There is?” Sam leans back in the motel chair and folds his arms.

“You see there was this chick.”

Sam inwardly and outwardly groans. _Of course there was._

“The two of us were really hitting it off, _and I mean really hitting it off Sammy_.” Dean seamlessly slips right into his over-confident ‘smooth’ guy mannerism, cocked grin, bouncing eyebrows, and all. “And man, let me tell you, this chick—smoking. Serious fuckin’ dime, man.”

“Uh-huh.” Sam’s already half checked out.

“And so this chick looks at me and suggests that we get out of there and there’s no way I passing that shit up. Usually I’m the one having to ask that so I can tell this girl ’s super into me.” Dean licks his lips, nodding his head a bit.

Sam hadn't even realize it was possible for such high levels of done to exist, but in this moment, Sam was exhibiting just that. He was half tempted to pick up his hardback copy of _Good Omens_ up off the table and nail his older brother in the forehead with it. However, doing so risked the torn piece of paper falling out of the pages and Sam wasn’t too fond of the idea of losing his spot. Again.

“So at what point did you finally suspect your were getting robbed? Was is before or after she handcuffed you to the bed post?” Sam huffs sourly. “How drunk were you, Dean?”

“I wasn’t—” And Dean realizes that the fact he was nearly perfectly sober doesn’t help his case. “Don’t tell me you don’t ever let a girl handcuff you or tie you back while she thrusts a strap—”

“Uh no, Dean, I don’t.” Sam quickly interrupts his brother because this was turning into a bit more information that Sam wanted to hear. Great. Now Sam can never unlearn that Dean is, in fact, into pegging and at least some kind of low-key bondage. Maybe if he smacks his head again the wall enough times he’ll get amnesia and never have to remember. Sam can hope.

“Oh.” Dean clears his throat and looks away a little flushed, licking his lips again. “Yeah… uh… well usually I don’t get robbed in uh that sort of situation. You know, she might have actually been tryin' to pick pocket me when she was feelin' up my ass back at the bar… Damn.”

The sound of large flapping wings fills the room briefly and Sam’s hair shifts slitty in the momentary breeze.

“I have retrieved your belongings,” The voice is standing much too close to Dean. In fact, when Dean turns his head to look towards the angel his face brushes against Castiel’s lower chest (lower lower).

“Dude!” Dean startles and jumps back slightly as a subconscious reaction. The chair tips over with the eldest Winchester in it and comes crashing down. He groans from the floor, hand over his face. “Son of a bitch, Cas. Personal space.”

Castiel pulls Dean and the chair back up effortlessly without hesitation. He sets down Dean’s wallet, ruby’s knife, cell phone, a paper clip, colt 1911, a crumpled receipt from the local Rite Aid, some kind of fuzz that looked like it came off of Dean’s shirt, an unopened condom, travel size bottle of lube, a small pack of tissues that bad been poorly torn open with the gracefulness of a rampaging bear, a gum wrapper that’s had about half of it’s shiny part scrapped off, about 5 small plastic wrappers with white text printed in a pattern on them, another unopened condom but this one being of the actual appropriate size for Dean instead of being much too large, 2 snotty napkins crumpled up into balls, a phone number scribbled on a torn piece of paper written in purple crayon, loose change, and dean’s stolen clothes. “I forgot.”

“Why did you have to empty everything from my pockets?” Dean raises an eyebrow at Castiel, trying his best not to look embarrassed.

“I had to check to see if everything was accounted for.”

Dean rolls his eyes and the piece of paper with a phone number catches his attention. “Uh, Cas? This isn’t mine.”

Castiel shakes his head. “That is your handwriting Dean.”

“Yeah… uh, but, it’s also my number and I sorta gave it to—”

“I see. I shall return it.” Castiel grabs the piece of paper from Dean’s hand and disappears.

“Dude.” Sam looks at Dean tilting his head back.

“Wait. How did Cas even get that? I gave it to a totally different chick.”

“I found it in the garbage.” Castiel is suddenly back, once again standing too close to Dean. “I have returned it there.”

Sam covers his mouth with one hand, trying not to laugh. Dean shoots at glare at Sam, standing up and muffling a sneeze into his arm.

"Just... put your damn clothes on, Dean. Please." Sam moves the hand from his mouth over his eyes.

Perhaps, in hindsight, Dean should have just put on a different pair of clothes from his duffle instead of waiting for Castiel to retrieve he stolen ones. 

 


End file.
